


One wild night

by Deborah_Martinsson



Category: British Actor RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 18:46:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2517989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deborah_Martinsson/pseuds/Deborah_Martinsson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the morning after the night before. What happens when Jilly meets Tom</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. chapter 1

I have one thing to say. Please Earth, open up and swallow me whole. I have a herd of incontinent buffalo galloping through my brain, leaving unpleasant deposits on my tongue and since when did my teeth grow hair? Slowly I squint around the room, taking in the mellow apple walls and the rather tacky painting of a sunflower, along with the cheap 1960’s furniture and groan. It all adds up to my being in a motel. I turn over, slowly, wincing as my brain does a bungee jump and splats on the side of my head, yelling ‘Whoopee!’ as it does. There’s someone in the bed with me. Now I know for a fact that it’s not Pippa. Pippa is my best friend and confidante and partner in crime, she came over with me for this 4 day whirlwind tour of LA and besides, the body in the bed with me is most definitely not female. He stirs in his sleep and turns over. Oh my god, it’s Tom fucking Hiddleston! I’m in bed with one of the hottest men in the whole goddamned universe and I don’t remember how I got here. I look at him, taking in the high sculptured cheekbones, the smiling mouth and wickedly sexy eyes, all softened by sleep. His curly black mane is the very definition of bedhead. I can see a hint of chest hair , curly and soft and I stop myself from reaching out to touch it to see if he’s real and this isn’t just a dream that the powers that be have visited on me. He huffs in his sleep and pushes against the quilt, pushing it downwards. Eeek! I look under the quilt at myself. Totally naked. I try to hang on to an edge of the quilt to cover myself as I watch his body slowly being uncovered. The taut muscles on his chest, the faint outline of a six pack on his stomach, the soft downy hair leading to his groin…HIS GROIN!! Oh my god! I’m about to see Tom Hiddleston naked. And, judging by the clothing dotted around the room, not for the first time but it’ll be the first time I’ll be able to remember. I lie and watch him, overwhelmed by a sudden feeling of peace. 

All of my life I’ve been in a state of panic. Panic that my job wasn’t the right one, panic that the guy I was with wasn’t Mr Right but too scared to leave in case I was left on the proverbial shelf. At 30 your body clock hasn’t quite stopped but starts ticking loudly enough to let you know that the battery’s on the way out with no hope of a replacement. Like a molded plug on a kettle, you can’t change the fuse. 

I’m mesmerised as the blue material glides slowly over him, as if he knows I’m watching and is prolonging the show to tease me mercilessly. My breathing is getting shallower as my memory and body slowly begin to respond.  
I can remember how excited I was when I found out that I was the “Meet one of the Avengers” competition winner. I have never won a competition before in my life and only entered in on their website on a whim. You can imagine my shock when a couple of months later I get this email telling me, little old Jilly Lewis, that I was the winner and that my tickets would be posted soon for myself and a guest to come to LA/ Las Vegas depending on their schedule, to meet one of them for dinner and then to visit the set in Las Vegas. Pippa was the first person I thought of as she’s been a Marvel fan almost as long as I have and the squeal on the other end of the phone told me she was just as excited as I was. 

I don’t remember much of the flight over, just that Pip was as nervous and excited as I was as we sat, drinking Champagne, in the Business Class lounge waiting to board the plane and that we carried on drinking the whole way over the Atlantic. 

Looking around the motel room, I realise that maybe, just maybe, alcohol and I should part ways permanently. 

The hotel we were in was lovely, upmarket but not second mortgage expensive, but then what the hell did we care? We weren’t paying for it! We sat in the cool reception waiting for Mary to show up to guide us around. The meet and greet dinner was scheduled for our second day but the studio had sent along one of their PR people to take care of us for our first day. We spent the whole day traipsing around LA, window shopping in Rodeo Drive and marvelling at the huge houses in Beverly Hills. Our second day was spent on the beach in Venice before we were to be picked up and escorted to a private jet for the short trip to Vegas, Vegas baby! What can I say ‘bout Vegas that hasn’t already been said? Nothing, so I shan’t. 

Tom stirs in his sleep, the quilt is going to completely expose him. I hold my breath as…he turns over, giving me a good view of his arse. Even so, it’s enough to get my juices flowing…  
‘I can’t believe I’m sitting opposite Tom Hiddleston and he’s flirting with me.’ My brain went into automatic pilot as we chatted and flirted our way through starter, dinner, dessert and coffee. I had been a huge fan of his since seeing Wallander on TV.

He had been welcoming and friendly as we were introduced at the start of the meal. He had brought Chris Hemsworth with him who had taken up all of Pip’s concentration, so I was really only left with Tom to talk to. Yeah like that was ever going to be a hard ship! Pip was having the best time of her life, or so it seemed as she flirted and giggled all the way through the meal, whispering and occasionally holding hands with Chris, but then I wasn’t paying that much attention, I was flirting with Tom Hiddleston! There was a strange chemistry between us; sexual...yes, but almost as if we had come home only to no home either one of us knew. We also found we had the ability to communicate without words. Usually when one of us was about to dare the other to do something not quite socially correct. Pippa had been replaced as my partner in crime, at least for that night. His smooth, deeply British, infinitely sexy, voice rolled over me as he told me how he came to be an actor . 

“There were two things I was obsessed with: tennis and Shakespeare and I certainly wasn‘t going to make it as a professional tennis player so I tried acting. I was totally blown away with how much I loved it. You get to be a totally different person when you‘re on stage and all your problems and woes just evaporate. I don’t know how this film will be received and it may end up with me just turning tail and heading back to England and tv series. I really don’t know how long the public will want to see me but I‘m enjoying every minute of it”

He was totally disarmingly refreshing and honest. Direct too, staring at me with that mega watt smile and those captivating blue eyes of his, his black hair curling slightly, framing his beautiful face perfectly. 

“I think the public will want you around for a few more years. I know I do.” the words slipped out without me realising. 

“Good, I’m glad to hear that.” he replied, stroking my hand with his forefinger. 

I remember that as this point we went on to a bar, I say we, I mean Tom and I as Pip and Chris had disappeared off God knows where, and besides at that point I didn’t care. All I could focus on was the fact that I was with Tom going for a drink. I could feel something akin to love for him, something sudden and swift almost like I’d wrenched the arrow from Cupid and impaled myself upon it. I was wild and free, for the first time in years, and up for anything. Many drinks later… 

“Go on! Knock his hat off.” I whispered to Tom as we stood outside on the mezzanine balcony. 

A rather large man wearing a 10 gallon hat was outside on the ground level but if you bent down and put your arm through the iron bars you could just about reach… Wham! The hat went flying, Tom stood up quickly and turned to face me, nonchalantly leaning on the railings. He had a shit eating grin on his face, his eyes sparkling. The score on the door was 3 hats to me but 8 to him. The man turned to look up just as Tom dared to look down. Their eyes met and we knew we were in trouble. He grabbed my hand, drinks flying and pulled through the bar, down the stairs and into the casino. I remember lots of laughter and smiles and promises of things to come. 

“My god Tom, that was just so funny!” I said, as I managed to stop laughing, hanging onto his muscular arm for dear life. 

I hadn’t had so much fun for ages. It was like playing knock down ginger, only using people instead of doors.

“You and me are dangerous together.” he laughed, “I Haven’t had so much fun in ages.” he said, mirroring my feelings, his wicked blue eyes glinting dangerously, his cheeks flushed.

We made our way to the bar in the middle of the casino, he held onto my hand tightly as if to never let me go. My common sense, which at this point had been trying to get a foot in the door of reckless abandon, gave up and went away sulking. More drinks followed. What had happened next was a whirlwind of colours, the sounds of quarters chinking in and out of slot machines, bundles of cash being exchanged for plastic, large bundles of plastic being exchanged back for larger bundles of cash. Bright lights whirled around us as if we were the only couple in the world. Tom spent the evening with his arm around my shoulders, gently nuzzling my neck, at times kissing and stroking my hair. We were a sight to see: one tall with short black hair, one short with long black hair. Both dark and mysterious, yet giving and kind; arms wrapped around each other, hungry for the other yet unwilling to give in, wanting the moment to be anticipated just a little longer. My body felt liquid, as if my bones had melted every time he touched me. The feeling inside was as fiery as my skin that burned with his touch. I knew I had the same effect on him, feeling it as he stood behind me, subtly at first then more pressing. 

I groan as the memory of an alleyway filters into my brain, along with vague memories of being lifted into the air and impaled as well as getting down on my knees. God how could I? To have sex with someone I’ve just met and in an alleyway of all places, even if the memories are tinged with hot and heavy breathing and sweaty bodies moulding together. I feel flushed as the memories of the pleasure rushes over me. 

I remember he said he was in love with me and me saying it was mutual, but I’m not really sure at this point in time whether I dreamt that part…. A bright white light pierces my memory, with people throwing things at us as we ran off into the night, giggling like kids on a summer vacation. 

Tom opens his eyes and, blinking away sleep, turns over. I look at him, my face flushed with lust and memories. He reaches for me and I can feel my skin burst into flames. What he does to me… just the nearness of him and I can’t breath. He nuzzles into the smooth silky skin of my neck, murmuring as he does, in that sexy slow drawl of his, words like love and forever. It makes me smile, he’s echoing what I’m feeling. Maybe he’s feeling it too and not just saying it for effect. I’m ready for him, always ready for him. Defcon 3 - permanent state of alertness, or maybe that should be Defcum 3... He penetrates me easily, a good fit. I gasp as does he at the rightness of it. He moves against me, his hair flopping into his face, he doesn’t care about anything but being inside me right now. We move in unison, the age old dance, our bodies bathed in sweat, our fluids combining, bodies mingling until we’re not sure what’s mine and what’s his. I can feel the sweetness brewing from deep inside me, that pleasure pain that sends me over the top. It’s getting harder to breath now. A cry rings out in the still morning air, I realise it’s me crying out his name. His head rears back as he feels me tighten and envelop him in my hot, wet flesh. He roars ferally as we both release at the same time. He falls down atop me, utterly exhausted. I croon into his hair, whispering sweet nothings as my body slowly calms down and the room begins to come into focus once more. I am totally and deeply head over heels in love with this man. I have known him for less than 24 hours but I know deep inside we have known each other forever. I am contemplating the meaning of soul mates when sunlight glints. I look closer at his left hand. A wedding ring! Why didn’t I notice that last night? Common sense makes a comeback, rather sheepishly and notes that I couldn’t remember my name last night let alone to check for wedding rings. I put my hands over my face to hide my shame and feel something cool and alien. I look down at the little band of gold nestled snug on the third finger of my left hand and stare stupidly at it. 

“Morning wife.” Tom says, smiling at me, awake in every sense of the word.  
“Morning h..husband.” I stammer, my whole being not quite able to take in the fact that I am apparently Mrs Jilly Hiddleston. What the fuck? When? How? Why? Take that last one back - stupid question.  
He reaches for me again, my skin hot under his touch. I give in to him at once, no thought of pulling back. As he murmurs silly things in my ear, such as how many children we’ll have and the big party we’ll have to give to celebrate this wedding, all I can think of is ‘What am I going to tell my boyfriend?’


	2. One wild night p2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2

Thank god she’s still sleeping.

I look down at my beautiful wife, the shock and pain of the past 24 hours still evident on her worry lined face that even sleep hasn’t erased. She’s so beautiful and she’s mine and I will, to my dying day, never let anyone hurt her. I really want to touch her, to stroke her hair and soothe away both her worries and mine but I know as soon as I do she’ll wake up and remember and the pain will begin again.

The air is still and calm in our bedroom. Her hair shines dark blue in the moonlight that has filtered through a chink in the curtains.

\---------------------------  
I knew as soon as I met her that she was the one, I can’t explain how and why I knew this but the minute I started talking to her I just knew she would be with me for the rest of my days. To this day I thank the gods above that I was the “poor bastard” who was picked to represent Marvel for the competition. I can still see the horror on Chris Evans’ face when he realised there was a chance he’d have to make small talk for an entire evening with someone who would, to all intents and purposes, know more about Cap than he does. Chris is great but has such problems with social anxiety that if he’d been chosen I think he would have quit. In fact the only two who were up for an evening “with a Marvel fan” were Hemsworth and I. Kevin explained the reason they’d chosen Loki was that out of all us actors, I was the only one who knew my character inside and out and that because I had done so much to represent Marvel previously, the studio heads knew I could pull off an evening with a fan. I recall Robert moaning about how he didn’t want “to be the schmuck that has to do that”. I’ve still got, somewhere, the condolence card Robert sent me when he found out I was the “schmuck”.

To think that I started the evening thinking that it would all be over in a few hours, I would make a fan happy and it would be a marvellous PR move for the film and studio. I even brought Hemsworth with me as he was making cow eyes at me before I left and, looking back, I’m really glad that I did. His presence allowed me to concentrate on and to get to know the woman who is now the love of my life. The fact that I finished the evening by marrying her in a seedy little chapel, off strip, is something my mother has not yet let me forget. 

“Honestly Thomas, you go out for a PR evening with a fan and come home to England with a wife. What has gotten into you?”

My mum loves Jilly, now, but it took a lot of smoothing things out for her to accept that I married a woman I barely knew, in a chapel in Las Vegas. Even now the thought of where we got married makes me cringe slightly. Jilly laughs and tells me I’m just such an upper middle class snob. I did notice she didn’t laugh when I presented her with a beautiful diamond ring and dress and told her we were going to retake our vows in front of our family and friends, in London a couple of months after we married.

It was a great day but still feels like a poor substitute for that moment in time when you know you’re going to be with this person, your soul mate, for the rest of your life. Just one moment; one clarity of thought and the rest of the world doesn’t matter. You’re where you’re supposed to be with the person you’re supposed to be with, doing what you’re supposed to be doing and everything else pales in comparison.

\-------------------------------  
I love watching her sleep. Normally I would get up early and go for a run in the morning when it’s quiet and peaceful and I can clear my head, ready for the day but lately I’ve woken up every morning just to watch her sleep. It’s peaceful and I can spend my time just drinking her in. My note books that stay by the bed at all times are just full of sappy poetry about her; not that any of them will ever see the light of day – I may be a softy in love but there are limits. Hemsworth read a couple before I could stop him and he hasn’t stopped laughing since. Jilly’s the most wonderful person I have ever met; she gives me so much and takes so little. She stands behind me ready to catch me if I fall and to be caught in her arms I would risk falling now and again.

\---------------------------

I remember when she came walking into the restaurant, Chris nudged me and said something about a tall redhead but I only had eyes for the short dark haired woman next to her. We’d gotten to the restaurant a little early when Jilly first walked into my life and lodged in my heart. Objectively, she’s not conventionally beautiful, her nose has a bump on it that detracts from a flawless side profile and when she smiles her mouth opens a little too wide - after working in the entertainment business for as long as I have, I notice these things. It’s sad but true. When the unemployment rate for actors is about 90% at any one time we’re constantly on the lookout for imperfections. Everyone does it. From the casting couch to the housewife buying National Enquirer. Everyone looks for the flaws and no one looks at the person. Jilly was the first person, I’m ashamed to say, in whom these imperfections didn’t matter. She’s extremely attractive; beautiful to me and such a warm and loving person that everyone who’s met her has fallen for her: my parents, my friends, even Luke but I have a feeling that’s because Jilly conspires with him to get me to turn up on time. I can honestly say that between the two of them I am now punctual 75% of the time.  
\------------------------------------  
God I wish she’d wake up, so I can hold her and touch her and tell her how much I love her before I show her how much I love her. The past 2 days have been an absolute nightmare for me; god knows what they were like for her.

\------------------------------------

After the filming was over, we moved back to my house in Belsize Park, North London. It’s quite small but spread out over 2 floors and big enough for two people, even if one of us has enough stuff to sink the Titanic and the other one of us is quite minimal and tidy... 

I remember having to get used to living with someone who didn’t quite know the meaning of the word tidiness. It wasn’t that she was a slob or anything; she just liked to live in what she called a homely mess. To me it was perfect chaos but to her it was cosy and homely. After about a month I had managed to get her to start putting things back in their place and I remember being utterly dismayed upon coming home from filming as Prince Hal to find the place in an absolute uproar. Plates and cups all over the place, washing up left in the sink and clothes strewn all over the bedroom. I had stormed into the bedroom to find her curled up on the bed in a daze, the phone off the hook. She’d seen him again whilst out shopping. 

The first time it had happened, to my eternal shame I hadn’t believed her. It was bizarre. To be out shopping and to suddenly see someone who looked like your ex-boyfriend and then when you glance back he was gone. We’d only been married for a very short while and I guess I’d thought it was her guilt over dumping him on the phone that was making her see him everywhere. Even when the phone calls started I still didn’t believe it was him. You know those nuisance calls you get when you pick the phone up and have to wait to be connected to a sales person who is trying to sell you PPI or a mobile phone package.

I didn’t take any notice at first, mainly because I was in pre-production for the BBC’s The Hollow Crown and being Shakespeare there was an awful lot to learn. I’ve never been able to learn whilst sat indoors so I would take off on long runs and walks, reciting my lines into a dead mobile phone and was rarely home before 9pm most nights. I know it sounds like I was leaving my new bride alone but I told Jilly to leave the voicemail on and if I needed to call, I’d call her mobile. She was, unfortunately, out of work and so spent most of her days at home. Leaving the phone to ring to voicemail seemed to do the trick until one night I was home early. We got 5 calls in a row, just silence and then the faint disconnect sound. I called the police but even as I was explaining the situation it sounded silly; A few random sightings of someone who may have been him plus a few nuisance calls that may or may not have been him. The police were sympathetic but explained that as I had no real proof that it was this guy, there was nothing they could do, except sent a car round our area regularly, which would really upset my neighbours.

\----------------------------  
Jilly shifts in her sleep, the quilt has slipped sideways, her perfect breasts exposed to the cool night air. Sighing I replace the quilt to keep her warm and she murmurs and smiles, still fast asleep. I really would die for this woman, though, hopefully, I’ll never have to.

\---------------------------  
We changed the phone number and for a while things got better. She wouldn’t jump every time the phone rang and she had her old sparkle back.

Then she started to see him everywhere again. I tried to get her to take Pippa but unfortunately Pippa needs to work, she’s a radio host, and was often not available so Jilly would go out by herself. As I was usually out running, learning my lines for most of the day, I didn’t know this. She would be out food shopping, look over at the queue and see him staring at her then when she’d look back there’d be no-one there. I didn’t really know what he looked like as all she had when we’d first met was a small snapshot in her purse, that she shamefully showed me the morning after our wedding. That was a fun conversation – talking about your wife’s boyfriend…

Even when we moved back to London and all Jilly’s stuff was whittled down to fit in with mine, there wasn’t a good quality photo of him to be found.  
The phone calls started again when I moved into production and we started shooting the plays. We were on location for a couple of weeks and I had to stay away from home. She was scared I know but short of having her on set, which would’ve distracted me to no end, there was no way around it, plus we live in a gated house so she should’ve been safe. A week after I moved away on location it seemed that she must have been mistaken as the calls and sightings just stopped. I know the crew and cast were relieved as a few times we’d be in the middle of something crucial and my mobile would go off. After this I started putting it on silent, I know this upset Jilly but I thought she was just being silly, alone in the house by herself. I thought she was jumping at shadows.

Until I got that call.

My phone rang in the middle Jeremy Irons telling me off for being such a poor son. We were on location at the Tower of London. I’d brought the mobile on set fully intending to put it on silent but I’d forgotten. The A.D. had made a grab for it with a look of fury on her face but I got there first and went to turn it off. I stopped as I saw who it was from.

“Tom!! Come home, Greg’s outside and he’s trying to get in. Oh Tom I’m so scared, please!” I could hear the terror in her voice.

“Darling, calm down, what do you mean he’s outside?” I asked, worried.

“I opened the gates for the postman but it was him. I didn’t realise until I opened the front door, I managed to shut it but he’s outside.” her voice quavered with unshed tears.

“Have you called the Police?” I asked, knowing she hadn’t.

“No I wanted to speak to you.”

“Jilly, listen, get off the phone and then call 999, I’m leaving now. Ok?”

The sound of glass breaking. It will haunt me forever. Then Jilly was screaming down the phone before a dull thud then the sound of the phone being placed back on the receiver.

I stood, staring blindly at the dial tone coming from the phone, utterly paralysed with fear. Jeremy and the rest of the cast and crew just looked at me. As quickly as it had come over me it vanished and I raced out of the studio, leaving the guys staring after me. I made it to my car and gunned it, still dressed as Prince Hal, leaving trailing marks as I screeched out of the car park. All I could think of was Jilly. If he hurt her I would kill him. Thankfully the Angels of the traffic lights were on my side and I made it home in 25 minutes. 

The police were already there when I got home, surrounding our once safe home. As I pulled up I noticed a SWAT team which could mean only one thing. Greg had a gun. My heart stopped. I know it did, I was there.

Somehow I managed to find the man in charge and explained who I was. Apparently the real postman had turned up and hearing screaming, had called the Police which was good as I had completely forgotten to. All I could do was stand behind the barrier, outside our gates and feel useless. I had been in control of my life since I was about 18 years old and to find I could do nothing when the life of the one person I loved most hung in the balance was almost too much. My Jilly, my love, was trapped inside our house with her ex, who, by all intents, was going to kill them both and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do.

I know I was getting on the nerves of the man in charge but I couldn’t help myself, I was more nervous and full of energy than before any show. I felt impotent as I could only watch as someone called through a loud speaker, asking for Greg Edwards, for that was his full name, to put the gun down and hand himself in. The Police had been on the phone to Greg’s parents and had discovered that he had suffered from paranoia when he was a child and various other mental illnesses. The pain and violence had always been there, Jilly dumping him had broken the dam that kept them in and he was out for revenge.

Gunshot.

The most heart-breaking sound you could ever hear. I gripped the arm of the Policeman next to me so tight I bruised him as the SWAT team rushed our house, all thoughts of decorum long gone. I heard a howl of anguish and realised it was me. Tears poured down my face when I saw her being carried out, her arms wrapped tight around a policeman.

Run legs damn you.

I sped, stumbled and limped my way over to her and hugged her for all I was worth. We wept in each other’s arms, unable to let the other go, even as Greg’s body was carried past us on a mortuary stretcher. Single gunshot wound to the head was the cause of death.

He hadn’t wanted to harm her, not physically anyway. He’d wanted her to know what she had done to him before he’d killed himself in front of her. He was a very mentally sick man but I do feel for him. To be carrying that amount of pain around inside with no outlet for it is no way for anyone to live.

\-----------------------------------------  
Oh she’s stirring under the quilt. I can’t help it; she makes my skin burn with need. I settle down close behind her and stroke her gently, feeling her breathing rate speed up and seeing her skin flush. Sleepily, she opens for me and I slip inside. The heat of her is intense and welcoming and sometimes, too much to bear. I want to stay, still, inside her; joined forever, but her heat and tightness won’t let me. I move, languorously at first until it’s overwhelming and I need to pound into her. I can feel her wetness engulf me, dripping down onto my thighs and I love her even more. My heart pounds with exertion, and with complete adoration for this wonderful woman. I can feel the tightness in my body and the tingles beginning and as much as I want to stretch this out forever I know it’s near. I cup her and rub her engorged flesh, feeling her body stiffen, slightly at first and then more rigid as she nears completion. She arches her back towards me and groans as she clenches around me. It’s too much and I come with a groan, inside her, still feeling her muscles quivering around me.

I slip gently out of her, feeling the dampness that follows and try to settle down next to her. She turns and opens her eyes, smiling lovingly at me.

“Morning wife.”

“Morning husband.” she whispers, mid yawn, “That was a nice wakeup call”

“Mmm, I could get used to that every morning. How are you feeling?” I smile down at her, loving her even more than I did ten minutes ago.

“Tom, I’m fine and I’m going to be fine, so there’s no need to worry, Greg was ill and what happened wasn’t my fault or yours, I know it’ll take some time to come to terms with what he did but I will be fine. In fact all 3 of us will be fine.”

“All 3?” confusion takes a hike as realisation puts the boot in. 

“Morning Daddy.” she grins, reaching up for a kiss.


End file.
